


grayscale

by domesticatedantelope (vaultie_glass)



Series: power couple [10]
Category: Ride or Die (Visual Novel)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Choking, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23571625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaultie_glass/pseuds/domesticatedantelope
Summary: The one where Mercy can't sleep.
Relationships: Colt Kaneko/Main Character (Ride or Die)
Series: power couple [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1403857
Comments: 5
Kudos: 6





	grayscale

It never storms like this.

Mercy stares up at the darkness of the ceiling, and she listens to the downpour. Sheets of rainfall lash across the roof and rattle in the gutters, and the sound of it should soothe her to an easy slumber, but she keeps herself awake with that insomniac arithmetic, counting down the hours she no longer has to sleep. Her body turns and fidgets, tense with restless energy, her thoughts an anxious tangle too obtrusive to escape.

She drags the sheets over her head, shutting out the storm and the uncomfortable reality that she is far too late to get a full night’s rest already. In the stuffy, muffled quiet of the covers, she laments her morning in advance. Future Mercy will have hell to pay.

For now, she forces herself toward something productive - if she repeats that last word to herself, it feels a little less like giving up. She risks an arm to the frigid air, groping blindly for her phone and swiftly tugging it beneath the covers. Squinting against the glow, she notes the time - past late, stretching into early - with only a grim sense of resignation before settling back into her French reading. One more chapter, and this wasted night will have been worth something at least.

She’s worked her way through two and a half grueling paragraphs when she feels the warmth of familiar fingertips at her shoulder. They trace a lazy, knowing path down the slope of her arm, rising to trail that roughened touch over the delicate veins in her wrist, the soft, open hollow of her palm - and then Colt swipes the phone from her hand.

She emerges from the covers to the rumble of his laughter, frayed with sleep. Her phone illuminates his smile and the dark splay of his hair as he peeks an eye open at her. “Nerd.”

“ _Thief_.”

“You make it too easy.” He slinks closer with a smirk that she can barely make out through the darkness, reaching past her to deposit her phone safely beyond her grasp. His limbs are still heavy with sleep, but he seizes on the chance to linger, the warmth of his mouth landing somewhere near the tender hollow just beneath her jaw, and the heat of his bare skin against her own soothes at the fraying edges of her nerves. “It sounds like one of those ten hour thunderstorm videos outside and you still can’t sleep?”

“I’m _tryyying_.”

He breathes a sound suspiciously like laughter, low and fond. “I noticed. You’re gonna be up all night trying that hard.”

“I’ve accepted my fate,” she says dryly, her lips shaping a soft apology against his temple. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Go back to sleep.”

She feels his teeth latch briefly at the slope of her shoulder, just long enough to summon shivers. When she gasps, he grins and shakes his head, an obstinance she knows well creeping into each word: “You first.”

He says it like a challenge, with a tone that says _I dare you_ , and she’s never been the type of person to back down before. “It could be a while.”

The windows flash with lightning, their room illuminated in split-second flickers: the rumpled sheets of their bed, Colt’s sleep-messy hair and naked shoulders and the black of his eyes as his thumb rolls lazily across her cheekbone. “I’m not going anywhere.”

This is hardly the best solution. Come morning, Colt will be exhausted too, and then they’ll have each other to contend with, but her restless muscles ease against him, lulled finally to something almost restful. Before she can resist, an airy sigh lilts on her tongue, and she is sealing herself greedily against his chest, clinging to the warm stretch of his shoulders.

When thunder shatters through the steady drum of rain, Mercy can almost feel the rumble of it in her bones, a thrill of expectation running wild down her spine. The hitch in her breath catches his attention, knowing fingers drawing down her side to cradle the curve of her hip. “Scared?”

“Startled me, s’all.” Her eyes slip shut against the racing of her heart. A pleasing warmth descends her stomach at the weight of him above her, pinning her securely to the sheets. The responding blush lifts hot across her face, and even in the darkness of a stormy night, she knows that he will see it. “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not,” he promises, unhurried, hushed beneath the howl of the wind outside. His fingers frame her jaw, tilting her face up so his mouth can find the column of her throat and leave a trail of stinging kisses in his wake, teasing little pains that slowly ebb into a trace of something sweeter. “I’m helping.”

She bites her lip against the urge to smile; a word like _helping_ shouldn’t bring such filthy memories to mind, but her rushing thoughts all race to fill the syllables with sinful connotation. She arches into his touch as his lips continue down her shoulder, nudging at the thin strap of her tank top. When his teeth catch hold and drag it casually aside, she can’t resist a telling shiver, fingers clutching at the firm expanse of muscles in his back. “O-okay…” she gasps, and struggles to contain the giddy laughter in her lungs. “Maybe a little.”

He smirks against her skin; she knows it by the timbre of his voice, rough like black asphalt and altogether far too smug. “I’m just getting started.” One long hand slips among the tresses of her hair, finding place to grip and gently tug until a moan lifts from her tongue and fades into the constant pounding of the rain above them.

Another peal of thunder crashes in the distance, and the chill of goosebumps trickles up her arms to the skin at the back of her neck. Colt’s fingers twitch around a fistful of her curls as he searches her expression with that slow, enraptured look that feels like something meant for holy relics. His focus settles on the soft shape of her mouth, his free hand cradling her jaw when he leans in and claims a languid kiss. For one immeasurable moment, he is gentle with her, lips moving tenderly against her own; and then she parts to let him taste her, and his teeth nip at the plush curve of her bottom lip, his voice a rumbled groan at the back of his throat.

Before Colt and his clever, wicked mouth, Mercy never fully understood the faith behind communion. She could see nothing sacred in an act so base and human as consumption; but Colt’s kisses have descended to the dip between her breasts, and he consecrates her skin with teeth and tongue until she feels devoured and divine all in the same breath. When he drags his mouth over the dark peak of a nipple, pleasure twinges heavy in her belly, and she understands abruptly why believers kneel and drink from silver cups and call it worship.

Rough fingers edge the hemline of her shirt up, baring her stomach to his questing lips. One slow kiss lays claim to her ribs, then the beauty mark above her navel, and another to each hip. He pauses there to catch her gaze, flashing a smirk at her before his touch continues up her thighs.

She writhes under his fingers, gasping when they reach the flimsy cotton that so scarcely keeps her decent, thin enough to feel the scorching pass of his touch down her folds. A shudder leaps across his shoulders, and he bites a strangled noise against the muscles in her thigh. “Shit - Mercy, you’re so _wet_.”

She whines and clutches at his hair, a wicked heat flaring across her face. The rush of need pounds in her blood and in the ache between her open legs, where he teases fingertips against her through her underwear, waiting with a patience he reserves only for her.

Mercy strains to work her tongue around the strictures of her shyness. “ Please -” Her voice breaks, and she swallows thickly past the knot in her throat. “Colt…”

He palms her thigh in a certain grip, his fingers digging in just hard enough to press the most delicious pain there. “Tell me what you need.”

 _Need, need_ \- the word repeats a crooning mantra in her head. She searches through her scattered thoughts, once a restless deluge now all shaped into the smug curve of his lips, and how very desperately she wants to feel that smirk against her body. “I need you,” she breathes finally, and runs her thumb along his mouth, shivers at the bare intensity that heats his gaze. “ _Please_ \- take care of me?”

It tilts into a question, and Colt answers with a husky groan and the wet heat of his mouth sinking down against her, sucking through the fabric, fingers hooking past to draw it easily aside and taste her fully.

Her body tenses at the firm curl of his tongue, twisting a hand into the sheets as he angles her thigh over his shoulder. The sudden crack of thunder knocks her heart into a frantic rhythm, chills erupting down her spine and culminating in the hot, hot sting of pleasure that knits through her. His lips part hungrily against her clit, lashing his tongue across the bead of it until the nerves there jolt with overstimulation.

“ _Ohgod!_ ” Her ankles lock, only the barest glimmer of awareness keeping her from driving both her heels into his back. “Baby - that’s… _fuck_! ”

A rumble of satisfied laughter sounds between her thighs, and she pulls weakly at his hair, struggling to summon more than breathy whimpers when he has her legs spread trembling around his shoulders and the softest part of her under his tongue. He squeezes fondly at her hip before his hand drifts down to join his mouth at the slick heat of her sex. His touch is teasing, slow and easy, gentle when two of his fingers slip together and fuck into her, edging in with agonizing care, and it’s the softest counterpoint to how his mouth sucks down around her clit, and _oh god_ , she can barely catch her breath when it all strings down tight into the throb of building tension in her belly, catching like a struck match and reverberating in the brutal surge of climax that consumes her.

She doesn’t feel her nails drag lines across his shoulders, nor her thighs clench in around his head, just stumbles through the blinding white of coming until there are only aftershocks left twitching in her muscles, and she finds herself curled in around Colt’s body, clutching at the hand he laces with her own as she comes floating back down from her high.

Her legs are shaking when they sink against the sheets, and he soothes a lazy kiss to each before he scrubs a palm over his mouth and smiles at her. The sheets have tangled somewhere out of reach, and she succumbs to a delicious shiver at the open air that cools across her skin.

In contrast, Colt is firm and fire as he kisses up her heaving ribs. The darkness of the storm saps all the color from her vision, casting the sharp lines of his face in grayscale shades when he settles above her and devotes his lips to both her blushing cheeks. She turns to catch his mouth against her own, and he deepens the kiss with a flick of his tongue, hooking an arm around her waist to yank her closer.

The dark waves of her hair spill back over her shoulders, baring her throat to his teeth when his attention wanders down her neck. Her fingers tremble at the waistband of his boxers, slipping past it to wrap lovingly around him, thrilling when he twitches in her grip.

He muffles a groan against her skin, thrumming with breathless laughter. “You’re gonna be fucking exhausted tomorrow.”

Mercy hums and nips her teeth at the slope of his shoulder. Her heartbeat sprints behind her ribs, still pounding from the comedown and the crash of thunder and his cock so thick and hard against her palm. “Then I should probably make the most of this.”

Colts puts up no resistance when she pushes him against the bed, emboldened in the wake of coming, climbing over him to coronate his hips and marvel at the way she fits above him. The rigid heat of him bobs eagerly between her thighs, his body jerking as that restless energy she couldn’t find a place for drives her mindlessly to motion. She rocks through a few clumsy passes of her weight over his cock before he has her thighs clenched in his hands, securing her in place to fuck against her.

“Brat,” he groans, and Mercy laughs, biting down to stifle how it frays into a whine as the heavy head of him drags teasingly over her clit. His cock drifts to the tender point that wracks a jolt of livid heat along her backbone, and she catches her own urgent need reflected back in his gaze when he grits his teeth and nudges slowly into her. “ _Nh, fuck_ \- ”

She babbles blindly at the same time, “ _please, yes, perfect_ ,” reeling from the slow, delicious stretch. The feeling always steals her breath, the devastatingly snug fit of him as he fills her in steady increments. Her lidded eyes drink in the tensing muscles of his chest, his lip caught tight between his teeth, that urgency restrained to rigid stillness while her body learns the size of him again.

“ _Colt_.” Mercy reaches for him, pressing a swift kiss into his palm before leading his hand shyly, blushing, trustingly against her throat. She meets the deep black of his eyes, and she may struggle to form words of her desires, but she can say _I dare you_ in a thousand different ways. “Don’t hold back on me now.”

Understanding flits across his features, a knowing smile at the corner of his mouth as his fingers curl under her jaw and hold the faintest pressure there. “You know me better than that.” He rolls his hips into a languid thrust that prods his cock against that perfect point inside of her, drawing a filthy word out from wherever it was hidden at the bottom of her lungs. He laughs then, panting, clearly pleased with her reaction. He rocks into her again, setting an easy pace and driving her hips down to meet him, and the solid presence of his palm maintains that grip around her arching neck so that she feels the weight of it with every breath.

She’s just beginning to move with him when his fingers twitch and tighten at her throat, leashing in against her pulse until it sounds like pounding drums between her ears. She bleeds out a blissful sigh and strains to take in air again, barely breathing past the border of his hold, and something shivers through her at the deficit, leaving an exquisite sense of fullness in her nerves.

“Fuck, Mercy.” Colt swallows as his eyes roam greedily over her body. “You look so good like this.”

With his hand around her throat, she can only voice a soft moan in response. Her anxious thoughts have all subsided to an empty, pleasant buzz, and she drifts into that void with tears of bliss welling and sliding down her cheeks. His hips fall back into the same slow, lazy rhythm, and each sieging shift that cradles them together pulses like a beating heart within her body, wracking her in mindless rapture.

Her lungs feel it first, sharp like thirst: the gentle burn that crawls up through her chest, the meager remnants of her breath rising into a single affirmation - _yes_ \- that hisses through her teeth and disappears. The room throbs at the edges of her vision, and she whines against his grip, gasping broken syllables she hopes might shape his name.

Between her knees, Colt watches her with rapt attention, holding her gaze as his free hand hunts across her hip and settles fingertips against the slickened folds where she stretches around him. He rolls a thumb in stubborn loops around her clit, slinking nearer with each pass and driving her into a tortured arch between his hands. She jerks against his grasp, lungs aching for the breath to beg him, though she lacks the sense to name exactly what she needs.

He seems to know regardless, tracking how her muscles tense and tempering the pressure of his touch until she’s rocking down against his fingers, seeking more. Threads of livid pleasure web between her shoulder blades and pool in shivers at the bottom of her spine, and she curls her nails into his hips for something to hold onto as his thumb winds her closer and closer to coming.

“ _I need_ -” She tries to speak, lips working soundlessly around the words, her world a perfect storm of burning lungs and flashing lightning and the thick, abrasive pleasure of his touch. Colt knows her body with unerring certainty, and it doesn’t take him long to have her gasping voiceless noises through her teeth, violent shudders locking in her hips, every atom of her body screaming _almost, almost there_ -

She’s so close it’s nearly painful when his fingers ease around her throat, and her entire being strains to drink the cool air deep into her lungs, the taste of it like honey on her tongue as she sobs in relief. Thunder rumbles deafeningly through the earth nearby, and she can feel it tremble in her starving limbs, her heart a wild force behind her ribs, and lost among the lunacy of pleasure, Mercy thinks _it never storms like this_ and comes apart into a thousand tiny pieces.

A soundless scream tears from her lungs, the knot of pressure in her belly giving out to span the tender branches of her nerves with lightning heat, striking through her with the kind of force that forges grains of sand into white glass. Colt grips her hard enough to leave the imprint of his touch, holding her against him as he fucks her through the rhapsody of her undoing. She chants his name, the only sound that still makes sense when she is floating somewhere in the storm clouds high above them, and he unravels to the soft smoke of her voice, spilling at the deepest point of their connection with a shattered whine.

Shivering, still breathless, Mercy rolls her hips against him, and they moan together when she feels the wet, hard press of him inside her. She holds herself in that delicious fullness as the tremors start to gradually recede, sapping any strength left in her muscles until she collapses in a heap against his chest. He breathes a winded laugh and gathers her into his arms, drawing close enough to drop his lips in tender kisses down her throat. If Colt is thorough when he’s fucking her, then he’s meticulous in the stillness that follows, leaving no bruise or bite mark unattended.

Her eyelids sink like anchors by the time he’s deemed her properly adored. The rain still lashes at their window, muted to a soothing hush that washes over like the ocean at low tide. Colt sprawls against her back with one arm bent possessively around her, and she closes her eyes to the steady rhythm of his breathing, thinking blissfully of nothing as she tumbles into sleep.

* * *

In the morning, the only signs left of the storm are murky gray clouds and a lazy drizzle that pelts softly at their window. Colt groans in protest at the sound of her alarm, but they drag themselves reluctantly from bed and stumble to their feet, moving slowly through the stupor of fatigue. Her eyes ache from the hours she spent staring at the ceiling, but she rolls her window down on her commute to hold her hand under the tiny drops of rain, and when she smells the ozone tang of it that lingers on the pavement, she can’t bring herself to regret it.


End file.
